Madan G. Gandhi - New Delhi, India

From arctic home
choir is coming,
time for spring-ball.


Dew-drenched all nature,
choiring beams bathed
in symphony of colours.


Peacock on my roof,
nature's splendor
in multi-coloured robes.


Wafting they come
in love perfume,
in nature’s own costume.


Come cascading
meandering rills,
into ravishing falls.


Swallows at my door,
a choir,
the ambrosial hour.


Every spring:
daffodils waving
at my doorsteps.


Mountain ranges high,
circled by luscious valleys,
on sturdy shoulders rise.


From a sleep long and deep
I wake up
into demon killer’s role.


Night sky’s reflection in lake
splintered in a million waves
casts a magic spell all around.


Encircled by seven Moons
I am transfixed,
in the flowing current.


Noiseless leaves
stirred by swishing wind
whistle with an eerie sound.


Martians come picnicking here,
go fishing for stars,
spreading their net far and wide.


Soon shall they denude the lake
of all the star-eyed fish,
even the sky of its treasures.


A gypsy queen, she comes
to my rendezvous
when darkness descends.


In a flowing gown
from the eastern gate he enters,
the golden suffuses the sky’s rim.


The land of golden dawns
where first flower blossomed,
the home of spring-eyed bloom.


The sunset,
the sky is suffused
with fire-gold.


Sunrise and sunset,
the two wonders
of Dame Nature’s art.


The blended colours
on sky’s canvas,
the choir singing.


All beings bound to a common fate,
she herself guards the golden gate,
all points of entry and exit.


Conquer rage with kindness,
malice with goodwill,
lies and deceit with truth.

Daffodil trumpets,
flower bees skirting green,
croon nursery rhymes.


What beauty
in spangled silence


Songbirds warbling carols,
hymns of a happy home
of life-greening spring



editor : Alenka Zorman
Copyright Madan G. Gandhi, 2003